Really Cliché
by macawtopia
Summary: There were two things that a Malfoy never did; the first was act undignified & the second was consort with blood enemies. Draco was always very diligent about following these rules, until the day came when he simply had to break them… Oneshot


Hello! I just want to take this oppourtunity to warn you that the story you're about to read is nothing but the purest and fluffiest fluff that ever fluffed a fluff? Capiche? There is no deeper meaning or even a moral, really, but it's really fun, so I hope you enjoy it!

It takes place in Draco's sixth year, but it's sorta AU because he wasn't the one doing Voldemort's mission (we'll just say that some seventh year is doing it instead, 'kay?) Hope you like it!

XVX

This did not happen. This just. Didn't. _Happen._

As Draco sat motionless on the cold Hogwarts floor, this was the only sentence running through his mind. Well, that, plus a few choice swear words…

But how had this tragedy occurred? Well, it had been a day like any other day. Draco had woken up early, showered, dressed in his tailored silk robes, brushed his teeth, spritzed on his hundred galleon cologne (he prided himself in being the best smelling person in all of Hogwarts), and spent the usual quarter hour perfecting his silver-blond hair. When he was satisfied, he opened the bathroom door to see Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott standing shoulder to shoulder blocking the door, and glaring daggers at him.

Draco resisted the temptation to smirk, "Problem, gentlemen?"

It was Blaise who answered him, "No, _of course_ there's not a problem. We take nothing but the utmost pleasure in waiting _two bloody hours_ for you to get out of the bathroom every morning."

With a smile, Draco replied, "Why Blaise, I didn't know you felt that way. I'm touched!"

Theodore rolled his eyes, "Draco, what Blaise's trying to say is, even if you _are_ a vain poofter, you can't spend so long in the _bloody lavatory_ all the time. It's not natural…"

Feeling rather disgruntled at being called a poofter, Draco drawled, "Nonsense, if I didn't take the time to maintain myself, I would end up looking… well, like _you_." here Draco wrinkled his perfect nose with exaggerated distasted, "Now, Nott, if you'll excuse me, I have breakfast to attend to."

And with that Draco pushed the two boys apart, and swaggered past them. Perhaps one day they would finally understand how lucky they truly were to have had the chance to share a bathroom with Draco Malfoy.

Later, on his way to the Great Hall with Crabbe and Goyle, Draco had been intercepted by the only ever banshee accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry: Pansy Parkinson.

After catching up with him, Pansy had launched right into her normal and pointless gossip. By now, Draco was all but certain that the gossip was the first phase of her daily plan to drive him loony; "Hi Draco, did you see Blaise finishing his potions essay last night? Merlin, he looked like a _muggle_ he was _so_ lost."

Draco nodded disinterestedly, "Did he?"

"Of course, but he's still not as bad as that Longbottom squib, he practically _cries_ when he sees Snape coming. But you know, I heard that he fancies me. A _lot_."

It took much self discipline for Draco not to groan. Pansy had now started phase two of her evil make-Draco-nutters plan; she was attempting to make him jealous. Draco knew perfectly well that Neville Longbottom didn't have the slightest inclination towards Pansy, so he merely said, "I see."

Noting his bored tone, Pansy commenced the third and deadliest phase of her interrogation; whining.

"Draco, why don't you _ever_ pay attention to me? I mean, what if I _did _go off and date Longbottom?" She paused to bat her eyelashes, and Draco almost rolled his eyes:

_Then I would consider him the most unfortunate wizard on the planet…_

"Well, you haven't so I really don't –"

"_Answer_ me Draco!"

Pansy whined like a brat who wanted candy, so Draco gave in, "Parkinson, you and I know perfectly well that you would _never_ stoop so low."

Looking much happier, Pansy beamed at him. Then she ran off, probably to giggle with her friends about how wonderful he had looked this morning. Girls were so predictable.

XVX

The rest of Draco's trip to the Great Hall had passed without event. Breakfast had been spent sneering at Hufflepuffs and bragging about the new broom his mother had promised to buy him, which was typical, but then Draco realized that he had forgotten his book-bag back in the Slytherin dormitories.

So, he had decided to leave breakfast early so he could fetch it in time for class… and that was when it happened.

Just as Draco had reached up to push open the large Great Hall door, it had been slammed open towards him from the other side, hitting him square on his head and knocking him to the floor. And this, in Draco's eyes, was the biggest calamity which had befallen him all year:

Malfoys didn't _get _knocked onto the floor, they were the ones who did the knocking. Malfoys were always smooth, and poised; nothing but dignified grace. They were _not_, under _any_ circumstances, allowed to show human traits such as error or clumsiness; it was forbidden.

Draco had been taught these lessons from the crib, so being clobbered by a lowly door and landing flat on his bottom in front of the entire school was nothing less than a catastrophe of giant proportions; if his father ever found out, Draco fully expected to be disowned.

As he sat on the cold stone floor of the Great Hall, too stunned and distraught to move, Draco suddenly became aware of a sweet smell. It was like… lavender and vanilla with a touch of fresh summer breeze. It was the best thing his perfect nose had ever experienced.

Then, Draco noticed a hand extend down towards him. It was an unfamiliar hand, Draco thought wearily, he had never encountered it before. And while it was definitely a female hand, it was tanned, freckled and its finger nails had been cut short. Surely not the hand of a girl Draco would ever consider talking to, let alone touching.

But Draco took it anyways, and allowed himself to be pulled up. In the future, he would always argue that he had taken the hand because he had still been too stunned from the door hitting his head to think clearly, but in reality, he had taken it because somewhere in his banged up brain it registered that the delicious smell flooding his senses and the questionable hand must belong to the same person.

And they did. Unfortunately for Draco, that person was a spirited redhead with doe brown eyes and the last name "Weasley".

Ginny had been mumbling a quick apology for slamming the door into Draco as she helped him up, but her words stopped abruptly when her eyes met his silver ones.

"Oh…" she whispered lamely. She obviously hadn't realized whom she'd hit until that moment.

Feeling irritated both with her for being so awkward, and with himself for wanting to lean in, inhale, and bask in that lavender, Draco rolled his eyes, "_Oh?_ Is that all you have to say for yourself?" Draco faked a pensive face, "Well, now that I think about it, 'Oh' probably _is _the most eloquent thing a Weasley ever has and probably ever will manage to say. Congratulations."

Ginny, who had never truly seen Malfoy up close before, had been admiring the way his hair fell into those mesmerizing eyes, when she realized how insulting he was being.

Narrowing her own eyes, she promptly let go of his hand, "How _dare_ you! All I wanted to do was help you up!"

"That's rich, seeing as I wouldn't have needed helping up if you hadn't knocked me to the ground in the first place," Draco snapped at her.

Ginny, who couldn't believe that a person could truly be as much of a jerk as Draco was proving himself to be, intensified her glare, "That was an _accident, _you moron; I didn't knock you down on purpose!"

"I'm sure. Just like your father 'accidentally' attacked mine at Flourish and Blotts back in second year" Draco threw back cooly.

Now Ginny was truly angry, "He wouldn't have had to if your father hadn't been such a pompous _git_! And you're even worse! If you could see past the end of your _pointed little nose_, you'd realize that you're _not_ the centre of the universe, and that I have much better things to do then slam doors into the likes of _you_."

_Pointed nose? My nose is PERFECT thank you very much!_

But there were bigger issues at stake here than Draco's nose's pride. Glaring daggers at the redhead, Draco growled, "Don't you _dare_ insult my father."

Then Ginny gave him a look that was equally, if not more, lethal, "And don't you dare insult mine."

And with that she stalked off to the Gryffindor table, completely unaware of the impression she'd left on the Slytherin boy.

XVX

As Draco made his way towards his dorm, he found himself feeling oddly lightheaded and almost… dreamy. Even more frightening was the fact that when he closed his eyes, Ginny's freckled face swam in front of him, and he was struck with a maddening longing to smell her again. He had decided that she was officially the second best smelling person at Hogwarts, and resolved to try and meet up with her again…

But purely for experimental purposes of course; he wanted to figure out which perfume she wore and that was all. So, at lunch that day, he watched her table. She ate quickly; probably the fastest he'd ever seen a girl eat, and then she tossed her bag over one shoulder, bade goodbye to her friends, and left the hall, completely alone.

At this Draco was very confused; as far as he knew, girls never did _anything _alone. They traveled in exclusive groups at all times. Feeling unbearably curious, Draco decided that he simply _had_ to find out what she was up to. So, abandoning his innocent fish and chips, he followed her. And he shadowed her through the castle until they reached the last place he'd expected her to go; the library.

To his utter amazement, Draco realized that Ginny had eaten quickly just so that she could use the library in peace while everyone else was eating. And all she'd come here to do was to to find a plushy couch near the back, crack open some old novel and quietly read.

She was so into the book that she didn't even notice as he crept up to stand behind her chair and read over her head. So, to catch her attention, Draco was forced to whisper into her ear, "Building up your pathetic vocabulary are you, Weasel?"

"GAAAHHH!" Ginny let out a loud yelp of surprise, and fell right out of her seat into an ungraceful heap on the floor. Still breathing hard and wide eyed, her fiery hair escaping its ponytail, she turned to glower at him, "What in the name of Grindelwald's ghost are you playing at, ferret? You nearly _killed_ me!"

Draco grinned and instinctively held out a hand to help her up, "Only nearly? What a shame…"

Ginny was about to make an angry retort when she noticed that Draco _wasn't_ sneering at her; he was smiling. It was his honest smile that made her forget their morning conversation and convinced her to take his pale hand and let him pull her up. "Oh, be quiet, Malfoy."

"Is that really the best comeback you could come up with?"

Draco had settled himself into the plush chair beside Ginny's, and was now arching a challenging eyebrow at her.

Plopping into her own chair, Ginny decided that she was willing to play his game, for now. "Of course it's not. I would have loved to insult you to the best of my ability, but sadly, you probably wouldn't have understood me."

"See, that's _much _better, Weasley. I'd call that one downright decent." Draco drawled.

Ginny grinned slyly, "Are you saying that because your inbred brain cells aren't able to come up with an insult of their own?"

"You should give your _own_ inbred brain cells a rest; I think they need it." Draco countered.

"Or I could lend one to you; I think your one good brain cell is lonely."

"I really don't think you have any brain cells to spare, Weaselette."

"Did you stick your head in a toilet this morning, or is your hair like that on purpose?"

_Ouch… _

A little offended despite himself, Draco forced a smirk, "Funny, I was about to ask you the same thing. But then I realized that all that grease was probably just hereditary."

"Are you always this stupid, or am I just lucky?" Ginny smiled sweetly at him, ignoring his earlier comment.

"At least _I _know how to spell the word 'stupid'", was Draco's reply. He said it as calmly as if they were discussing the weather, and Ginny almost laughed; she knew the perfect way to end this.

"So do I. It's spelled M-A-L-F-O-Y."

Draco had just opened his mouth to make a retort, when he realized that he didn't actually have one.

_Oh. Bugger._

So instead, he offered his hand for her to shake with a smile, "Well played, Weasley; I'm impressed."

This time Ginny did let out a laugh. And after just a moment's hesitation, she took his hand and shook it firmly, replying with, "Thank you, I suppose…"

Then they were silent for a moment, neither sure how to start a proper conversation with the other. In the end, Ginny settled for asking, "So, is that what Slytherins do for fun then? Abuse each other?"

Draco shrugged, "When we're not mocking you lot, we like to keep in practice."

"I see." Ginny said, smiling and wondering if he was joking, "We Gryffindors tend to prefer more conventional means of amusement, like exploding snap and… reading." Ginny said, indicating the book in her lap.

Draco stroked his chin in a mock thoughtful way, "Interesting… but rather unexpected."

When Ginny raised an eyebrow questioningly, Draco explained, "Well, I'd always believed that Gryffindors merely spent their free time running around looking for evil to vanquish."

Ginny laughed, "You're thinking of Harry; we're not _all_ obsessed with saving the world."

At this, Draco smiled, "Oh, so _that's_ why Harry's been following me around all year!" Feigning relief, he added, "I was beginning to think he'd fallen for me. Which, while touching, was starting to worry me…"

Ginny rolled her eyes, "Honestly, Malfoy, how pig-headed can a person get?"

Draco smirked, "Do you _really_ want to know? Because if you truly want to see pig-headed, I could always introduce you to Pansy…"

His silver eyes had a touch of friendly teasing in them, and Ginny couldn't help but notice how handsome his features were when he wasn't sneering maliciously. She also couldn't help but notice how, well, _comfortable_ she was feeling. She felt as if she were talking to a friend she'd known all her life, someone whom she could just… be herself with. Suddenly she had to know what was going on.

"Malfoy… what are we doing?"

He smirked again, "We Slytherins like to refer to this as _talking_; what do you call it in Gryffindor-land?"

She shook her head, "No, what I mean is, _why_ are we talking. Before this morning, I'd hardly said five sentences to you in my life. And I'm supposed to hate you. What are we doing sitting together, in the _library_ of all places, and having a polite conversation?"

Deciding to be honest, Draco replied with a shrug, "Beats me. But I think it _might_ have something to do with my head injury. The one _you_ gave me, remember?"

Ginny felt a twinge of irritation, "I'm _serious_, Malfoy; I want to know _why_ you decided to talk to me." She narrowed her eyes dangerously.

"But I _am _being serious! The grievous wound you inflicted on me clouded my judgment, and led me here!" Draco protested loudly.

"Don't be such a pansy, your head's perfectly fine." Ginny said, rolling her eyes.

Draco widened his own eyes dramatically, "Perfectly fine? I'm lucky to be _alive_ after your attempted murder!"

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes at him yet again, Ginny suddenly jumped out of her chair and leaned over his.

_What the bloody hell is this witch doing? She's coming __far_ _too close… And oh Merlin, there's that smell again… Mmmm, vanilla… Wait, __why__ is she putting her hand in my hair? Oh… that feels so good… Wait, what is she DOING! _

"What are you _doing_, Weasel?" Draco asked, finally able to put his thoughts to words.

Ginny was now sitting on the armrest of his seat, and practically stroking his artfully messy blond hair. Normally he would never allow a blood traitor to come within a meter of his person, but having that vanilla in his nose and her fingers running through his hair was rendering him incapable of any sensible thoughts. Moreover, Draco was becoming painfully aware of the fact that her leg was a mere inch away from his hand on the armrest, and that her shoulder was lightly brushing his…

"What am I doing? Honestly Draco, how can you be so clueless? I'm looking for the _bump_ of course."

"The bump?" Draco asked dazedly, trying his hardest not to give in to the stroking and close his eyes…

Ginny finally looked away from his hair, and met his gaze, looking confused. Then she spoke as if she were explaining something to a three year old. "Yes,_ the bump_. On your head. Where the door hit you."

_OH! __That__ bump._

"Well, have you found it?"

Ginny smirked, "No, I haven't. Because there isn't one."

Draco leaned in to her, his eyes locked on hers, "Are you sure?" he whispered.

Suddenly feeling distinctly uncomfortable Ginny managed to breathe out a quiet, "Yes."

"Then why are you still looking for one?" he asked in a low voice.

For a moment, Ginny was confused. Then she blushed as she realized that she was still absentmindedly playing with his soft hair. She tried to snatch her hand away, but Draco deftly caught it with his. "Don't stop…" he whispered, his eyes boring into hers, "_Ginny_, don't leave."

Ginny didn't think that she could have left, even if she wanted to. His unfairly heart-melting eyes seemed to have glued her to her spot, and the way he'd said her name just then had sent shivers down her spine. Her heart began to race and she felt her cheeks burn.

Staring back at Draco intently, she whispered, "Why not?"

This was it, the moment Draco had been waiting for all day. Keeping his metallic eyes locked onto her soft brown ones, he whispered huskily, "Because I have to know… what perfume do you wear?"

Ginny blinked. Then she blinked again; whatever she had been expecting, that hadn't been it. "Excuse me?"

Draco smiled sheepishly, noting the almost disappointed look on the redhead's face, "Er, I'd never smelled it before, so I, got curious. That's what I came here to talk to you about just now, to be honest."

_Why in the name of the Dark Lord's pink pet poodle are you telling her the truth? LIE! Lie and tell her that you've been smitten with her since second year, and only just mustered the courage to approach her, darn it! And then use those eyes of yours and she'll melt in your arms. Come on, it's worked for you before…_

But Draco found himself unexpectedly unable to turn on the charm, a calamity which had never befallen him before. He blamed it on the head injury.

Eventually, Ginny found herself capable of intelligible speech again. "Actually Malfoy, I, don't wear perfume. You probably smelled the homemade vanilla and lavender soap my mum gave me."

Draco smiled awkwardly, "Oh."

She was still sitting on his couch's armrest, and he was still holding her hand, unsure of what to say. Ginny however, knew _exactly_ what to say.

"_Oh?_ Is that all you have to say for yourself?" she glared, "Well, now that I think about it, 'Oh' probably _is _the most eloquent thing a Malfoy ever has and probably ever will manage to say. Congratulations, _ferret_"

Malfoy what slightly taken aback; why was she angry all of a sudden? "What's wrong with _you_?"

"What's wrong? You just told me that you only came over here to bloody _sniff_ me!"

"Well what did you diddle _want_ me to say? That I came here because I'd randomly decided to fall in love with you and wanted to marry you?" Draco asked, exasperated.

"No! Well, actually, I …" Ginny trailed off and blushed furiously, "You know what, never mind."

And with that she abruptly let go of his hand, got up off of his chair, and started packing her books back into her bag, muttering incoherently about it almost being time for class. She was just pulling her bag over her shoulder when she heard him, his voice barely above a whisper, "Weasley, wait."

She whirled on him, snapping "What is it now? Do you want to borrow a bar of the bloody soa-"

But she was cut off, by Draco swiftly taking her face in his hands and kissing her tenderly on the lips. He kissed her slowly, and felt her lips soften into his as her initial shock wore off. Then, he pulled back and looked into her eyes.

"There, is _that_ what you wanted?"

Ginny was too stunned to reply, or even move for that matter. All she knew was that that had probably been the most wonderful thing ever to happen to her since she'd made the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Draco, for his part, took her silence as a go ahead, and leaned in to kiss her again. Predictably, she tasted irresistibly of vanilla, and he moved his lips against hers insistantly to taste more. When she started responding, his kisses became more passionate, hungry and fueled by teenage hormones and desire. Ginny's arms slid around his neck to pull him closer, and she kissed him longingly.

When they broke apart, both breathless, Ginny felt her brain slowly regain control of her body. It was screaming at her to slap Draco, or at least run away; reminding her why she shouldn't be in his arms. But she felt so comfortable there that she couldn't bring herself to move.

Still dazed, she looked up at him, and then whispered, "Malfoy… _Draco_, what are we doing?"

He smirked softly, "We Slytherins refer to this as snogging. What do you call it?"

Ginny only smiled, "I'd call it mental, wrong, crazy… and perfect. Absolutely perfect."

And that was how Ginny Weasley and Draco Malfoy fell in love. It all happened in one day, and it was about as cliché and fairytale-like as a love story could get.

This did not happen. This just. Didn't. _Happen._

But Draco couldn't help thanking his lucky stars that it had.


End file.
